Give Me Life
by ReederJoe
Summary: This could have been the most important day of my life. I was literally about to lay eyes on the person who'd occupied my mind for so long now. I'd never felt this way for anyone before, and now I knew for sure that I'd never feel this way again. Everything I had- every smile, every laugh, every morning when I opened my eyes- it was because of him.
1. Prologue

**Prologue: Phil's POV**

 **October 19, 2009**

The rush of trains flying by was a near constant thing here. Every five minutes, it seemed, there would be a loud whistle and then a screech as one of the silver trains came into or left the station. Every five minutes, my eyes flew to the double doors in the back, watching the people pour through. Manchester was a busy place, but these people seemed to have found a routine for getting around without tripping over each other. There was an incessant ticking sound flowing from behind me; I glanced over and saw the source- a huge clock on the wall.

He'd be here soon. My heart pounded in my chest at the thought of seeing his face without a pixelated screen separating us. I knew he was excited, if only for the prospect of finally meeting his internet idol. But I knew that was only part of it. We'd been talking for months, through Twitter and Skype, and we both knew there was only so much you could do when there was a computer screen blocking you.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I knew it was from him before I retrieved it, but I still smiled widely as I read the text. There was no trace of the overwhelming anxiety I knew was coursing through him at this moment.

 _train's just arrived. Now to get lost in the sea of bodies._

I stood up then, turning to face the doors he'd be coming through any minute now. My hand kept moving to my hair, fixing the fringe that wasn't going anywhere. I took a step toward the door, one hand gripping the shoulder strap of my bag. I was nervous, but there was no reason to be. It was just Dan.

No.

It was much more than that. This could have been the most important day of my life. I was literally about to lay eyes on the person who'd occupied my mind for the past year almost. I'd been spending way too much time thinking about what I'd do first. It shouldn't have been that difficult of a choice, but maybe I was just trying to distract myself. I'd never felt this way for anyone before, and now I knew for sure that I'd never feel this way again. Everything I had in me was being directed at the boy who was about to step into the building.

 **A/N: Before you freak out, no this doesn't mean I've abandoned Little Moments. I just want phan fluff so bad I can't stand it, and then this idea popped in my head, and I really wanted to write something with "already-established phan" so here we are. I think you'll like it. Don't forget to leave a review, and enjoy!**

 **-Justin**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: So here it is. I've been wanting to write this for a while now, so I hope you enjoy it.**

 **Leave a review! *Shia LeBeouf voice* JUST DO IT**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Dan or Phil, nor am I insinuating that these events actually occurred. (But wouldn't it be nice?) Also, swearing. I feel like I should mention it, even though it's DAN and we all know. So yeah.**

 **Chapter One: Dan**

 **October 19, 2014 (Sunday)**

The only thing I wanted out of today was for the builders to _stop drilling_. I groaned once without opening my eyes and twisted round so that I could see Phil. He shifted in his sleep, but didn't wake up. He was notorious for being able to sleep through these things. I'd like to know how he managed it.

I let out a _yelp_ of surprise when I felt his arms snake around my torso, squeezing gently. Well, I _thought_ he was still asleep. I shuffled closer to him to tighten the embrace. This was one of the best things about mornings. By that, I meant it was pretty much the only good thing. One of his hands slipped under the hem of my shirt and began rubbing circles on my stomach. A pair of lips pressed to my collarbone, sending a shiver down my spine, and then his breath tickled my ear as he whispered, "Good morning, love."

I rolled over to face him – his grip loosened for half a second- and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. He was smiling when I pulled away, but after five years together, I expected nothing less. I reached out with one hand to smooth back the fringe that was falling into his eyes. "The bloody constructors are back again," I said in response, and he laughed. He was well aware of how irritatingly loud they got at night, but it didn't seem to bother him the way it bothered me. Then again, he'd fallen asleep on the train before, right next to the whistle.

"I'm sorry," he said, pulling his best apologetic expression and then somehow pulling me even closer to him so that our chests were touching. I let my head rest in the crook of his shoulder, enjoying the sensation of his fingertips on my side. Mornings like this were slow and lazy- the kind of day that I would prefer all the time. If it was up to me, we'd never leave the house, but we were successful adults who had things to do. At least there was no radio show today. The only thing we had to do was Phil's live show. We usually steered clear of each other during those, but tonight was a special one. We'd been discussing it for almost a year now, and I finally felt like I was in a place where I could handle the attention that would probably drown me in the next few months.

"Today's the day," I commented after a few minutes of silence. I sat up and leaned back against the wicker headboard. Everything _creaked_ , and for a split second I was sure we were about to crash through to the floor. It always felt like that, but we hadn't fallen yet. There was another creak as Phil shimmied up to join me, a smile on his face that I knew was there because of what I'd just said. He'd always been ready to tell the world about us, but he'd never once tried to make me do it. It was one of the things I loved most about him. I reached out to take his hand, saying, "Thanks for being patient with me."

"I'm just the best," he said, tossing an arm over my shoulders, and I leaned into his side for a moment. Too soon, he swung his legs over and stood up, leaving me alone in the bed. "Come on," he said, holding a hand out. "Time to eat."

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Phil sat in the corner of the lounge, fighting with his laptop. "Piece of shit," he muttered under his breath. Phil never swore, so I knew there was a serious problem. Or serious to him, at least. I walked over to see for myself.

"You okay there, mate?" I asked, trying not to smile. I didn't think he knew (or understood) how entertaining it was when he got frustrated. Obviously, there were lines to be drawn, but hardly anything ever actually seriously bothered him, so it was mostly funny. "Which Wi-Fi are you on?"

"E-E," he said, after squinting at the corner of the screen. "That's the slow one, why does it keep going back?"

"Disable it," I suggested, and he looked up at me with confusion. I plopped down beside him and took the computer into my lap. With my finger on the track pad, I showed him how to cut off the EE Wi-Fi so that it couldn't try to reconnect again. This wasn't even the first time we'd had to do this, but it seemed to be the one thing he couldn't remember. As I passed it back, I gave him a smirk and said, "Aren't you supposed to be the one with a Master's in this stuff?"

"Shut up," he ordered, eyes on the screen. We had about ten minutes until the live show started, so he logged onto the You Now website and added us to the queue. Once that was settled, he looked up at me. "What should we do until six?" He was already leaning in toward me as he said the words, so I was pretty sure I knew what he wanted to do for the next five minutes.

"I could think of a few things," I murmured as he pressed his lips to mine, hands reaching up and around to hold me to him. His fingers quickly settled in my hair, stroking softly in a calming manner. I wound my own arms around his waist, pulling him close. More than anything, I would have liked to toss a leg over and straddle him, but we didn't have the time for that kind of make-out session. Still, this feeling of security that I only got from his embrace was a nice alternative.

Our lips moved fluidly against each other, neither of us exactly interested in anything more at the moment. There was something about the simplicity of his lips on mine, the skin-to-skin contact that sent a lot of feelings down my spine. I knew it was the same for him, and that only made it more intense. We'd spent a long time building up this kind of trust.

We both jumped when the laptop _ping_ ed, indicating that we'd be next in the line-up. Phil pulled his lips from mine begrudgingly, and I couldn't help but laugh at the small frown on his face. "Don't worry, babe," I assured him, patting his knee. "There'll be more soon." Just like that, the frown vanished, and he smiled widely as he began greeting the people joining the chat.

"Hello, Mattie S. and Sarah T. and Conner." Phil always began his live shows by reading out a crap ton of names, and tonight was no different. My presence definitely did not go unnoticed, as the chat box quickly filled up with 'holy crap its Dan' and 'look how cute they are' and 'does this mean you're not doing yours Tuesday?'. They always jumped to the worst conclusions. "Don't worry, Dana, nothing terrible has happened." I assumed Dana's concern lay with the fact the Phil and I were doing a live show together for the first time in months. Sure, we sometimes had surprise cameos, but we almost never planned to have both of us in one from the start.

"Tonight's a special occasion," I announced for their benefit, hoping it sounded like we were about to give them good news. I could already see the chat filling up with the comments I'd be suffocating in, but it would be worth it if it meant I could stop hiding. "We've got _news_ for you guys." I ignored the influx of demands for 'NEWS' and checked the stats at the top of the screen, seeing that there weren't as many people as usual on tonight, and then added, "Looks like it's privileged information, seeing as there's only about 2,000 people online this evening." Phil slipped his hand into mine as I said this, and I turned briefly to look at him.

 _ **Ten seconds in and heart eyes Howell breaks a new world record**_

 _ **They're totally gonna bone after this is over**_

 _ **They probably did already**_

 _ **Pls marry me Phil**_

 _ **No no no he cant do that hes already taken**_

I felt a strange sense of calm wash over me as I read the comments speeding by. Maybe it had something to do with Phil's palm pressing into mine, but I saw the things these people were typing out and I realized that nothing would change once we came out. The only difference would be that now they'd know they were right. Up until this point, they thought they were, but it was just a theory. After tonight, Phan would be canon.

"Just for the record," I threw in, "I am still doing a show Tuesday. Don't know why you guys assume the worst about things." I grinned to show them I was only kidding, and then Phil's fingers squeezed mine. It was time.

"We've been debating whether to ease you in to the waters or just toss you in the middle of the shark tank," Phil started, and I immediately turned my head to stare at him out the corner of my eye, keeping a view on the screen in front of me as well.

"That's quite the introduction, Phil," I said, still grinning. He responded by lifting our hands slightly, as if he was trying to find a more comfortable position, and I could suddenly see them on the screen.

 _ **Guys do u see what i see**_

 _ **OMFG theyre holding hands**_

 _ **Phan?**_

 _ **what is happening**_

 _ **r u holding hands ironically**_

"EmmyLou wants to know why we're holding hands, Dan," Phil informed, looking toward me with a cheeky smile. He glanced down at our joined hands as if he didn't know, either.

"Well, Phil," I said, jumping into the routine we were apparently going with, "you're my boyfriend. Why wouldn't we hold hands?" I stole another glance at the screen. We'd really done it this time. I went on before the site could crash. "Have been for what, five years now?" That last bit was just for my own entertainment.

 _ **UUUUUHUUHHHMMMMMM**_

 _ **OTP IS CANON**_

 _ **PHAN IS REAL?**_

 _ **AGNSGWRUNGERUVNN**_

 _ **I DON'T UNDERSTAND LIFE**_

 _ **ARE YOU GUYS FUCKING WITH US?**_

 _ **IS THIS SRS BIZNESS?**_

 _ **I KNEW IT**_

The chat continued to explode with comments, and I almost felt sorry for the people who'd joined late. They'd know soon enough, though, as I was absolutely positive this live show was already floating through tumblr. It lasted five more minutes, and then the site blacked out. An error screen popped up, saying something about technical difficulties, and I just started laughing. We'd officially broken the YouNow site. That might have been the one thing I didn't anticipate. After a few seconds of the error screen, we were kicked out to our homepage. I stared at it for a moment, and then I burst into another round of giggles. I ended up falling sideways into Phil, and my head went to his lap. He laughed with me, our bodies practically shaking each other.

Once I got it out of my system, I took a few deep breaths to compose myself. With my head still in Phil's lap, I opened my mouth and said, "Well, that went better than I thought it would." His hand found mine again –when had they separated? - and I shifted slightly so I could look up at him. "I love you, you know."

His free hand moved over, stroking my hair softly, brushing through the fringe over and over again. He was the only one who could get away with it. He smiled. "Yeah, I know." Pause. "By the way, happy anniversary."


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay guys. I've been wanting to write this scene for a while now. I hope you enjoy it. Don't forget to leave a review!**

 **Also, fluff. So much fluff.**

 **-Justin**

 **Chapter Two: PINOF**

 **October 25, 2009**

"You're gonna spend a week editing this," I whispered against his lips. It'd been his idea to film this collaborative abomination, but we couldn't keep our hands off each other long enough to finish it. Not that I was complaining.

He laughed, smiling into the kiss, and wrapped an arm around my waist. All rational thought went out the window as his fingers twisted in my hair, pulling me into his lap. It only lasted a few seconds, though, because he suddenly pulled his lips away with a soft _pop_ and held me at arm's length.

"Let's hurry up and finish this," he said huskily, eyes clouding over slightly with something I still wasn't used to. I couldn't get over the fact that I had this effect on him. I knew it was plastered all over my face, how he made me feel, but it wasn't as bad as I'd anticipated. He seemed to enjoy my flustered expressions.

We turned to the camera, side by side. "This is the most fun I've ever had," I announced truthfully. The past few days with Phil had been more fun than anything else in my life. I would be going back home tomorrow, and I already missed him.

I caught his expression out the corner of my eye, and a split second later felt his arms encircle me as he literally lunged at me, knocking us both to the floor. He pressed a palm to the carpet by my face, propping himself up, and leaned down to kiss me for probably the hundredth time today. My arms went around him, hugging tight, and I let out a giggle as his ebony fringe fell from his forehead and brushed my cheek.

"I love you," he murmured after a moment, lips barely touching mine. He pulled back an inch to look me in the eye. My heart leapt in my chest at his words. I'd fallen for him a long time ago, but I was too scared to say it, because what if he didn't feel the same way? I knew I couldn't handle that kind of rejection, not when we were so close.

I could've drowned in the oceans his sapphire eyes resembled as he opened his mouth again. "It might be too soon, but I don't care. I love you, Dan." The words weren't any less meaningful the second time around, and I found myself tucking into his one-armed embrace. I would have liked for him to just press his body against mine and let me feel the comforting weight like a security blanket. He seemed to understand this without my voicing it, and I sighed softly as he settled on top of me, pressing a palm to my side.

"I love you, too," I promised, smiling widely. I could feel the tears pricking in the corners of my eyes, but I didn't care to wipe them away. Before Phil, I'd spent a long time questioning what was good about my life. Even when I began stalking him, there was a constant voice in my head telling me he didn't care, that I was just another fanboy. I'd almost given in and stopped trying to talk to him when he suggested we start skyping together. There was still a tiny voice telling me I wasn't worth the effort, that he'd drop me once he found someone better.

"Don't cry, Bear," Phil whispered now, running a thumb along the underside of my eye, where one tear had finally broken free. He moved his thumb after a moment and replaced it with his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek. "I know what you're thinking. You _are_ worth it, Dan. You're always worth it."

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 **October 25, 2014**

"This is the most fun I've ever had," past-me said on the screen. I watched with a stupid grin on my face as past-Phil tackled me to the ground, and then the shot lingered for half a second before jump-cutting to the end, where we'd done our ridiculous heart hands. After it ended, the next video popped up. I cringed when I saw that it was _Hello Internet_ and quickly exited the browser before that monstrosity could begin. Just as I was shoving the laptop away, Phil entered the lounge, carrying two mugs. He sat beside me on the sofa and passed one over.

"Ribena?" I joked hopefully, laughing at his scowl. He took a sip from his cup, and I recognized his thinking-of-a-comeback expression.

"It's too early for alcoholism," he finally declared matter-of-factly, reaching over to pat my knee. I shrugged a shoulder and brought the mug to my lips. "I had a notification this morning," he announced after a moment of silence. I propped my legs up on the coffee table and leaned into his side, preparing for his first story of the day. "Hashtag PINOF is trending worldwide." I could hear the smile in his voice.

"I just watched it," I told him, gesturing to the laptop by my other side. "It's been five years since we made that disaster." I was only joking, of course, and he knew this. In all honesty, that day was one of the best I'd ever experienced. I finally fulfilled my dream of collaborating with the best YouTuber ever (in my opinion, anyway) and right when I'd thought things couldn't get any better, he'd said the very words I didn't think I'd ever hear from anyone. I was pretty sure I'd been convinced that whatever we had was a fling and would end relatively soon. Ah, if only 2009 Dan could see where he was headed.

"It was a good day," he agreed, wrapping an arm over my shoulders. I could picture what was going through his mind right now- the nonstop kissing, countless edits, his weird bear hug tackle that led to- "I can't believe I told you first. I thought for sure you'd beat me to it."

"Oh, right. Because I was the obsessive fanboy who'd finally shacked up with his idol," I teased, laughing. We'd had this conversation before. If he hadn't said it first, it might have never been said at all. Sometimes I thought he'd known that all along.

"Exactly," he said, tightening his grip on me. I leaned forward to put the mug down and then snuggled up close to him. Even if it was a joke, it wasn't entirely wrong. I still felt slightly dizzy when I thought about the first few months of our relationship. He brought his other arm over to my stomach, fingers trailing under my shirt and across my skin. He palmed my side and took hold as he slid over, tossing a leg to straddle me. His lips went straight to my neck, hands to my hips. I slid my own arms up to his chest, slipping a hand under the collar of his shirt. "You're still worth it, you know," he whispered suddenly, moving his lips to my ear and offering reassurance even when I didn't think I needed it.

"I know," I replied, and I meant it. He smiled against my skin and pulled back a bit, hands sliding up to my chest. He let his palms rest there, fingers tapping out a soft rhythm. He started to lean in again, lips barely touching the corner of my mouth, and then he let out a sound of surprise when a tri-tone _ding_ sounded out.

"We're trending again," he said, reaching for his phone. He seemed excited about it, so I let him have his moment, smiling as I watched him expectantly. "You'll never guess," he mused after a moment, looking back to me. I moved my hands to his hips, trying not to laugh. The past few days had been full of nonstop tweets, gif sets, and text posts about the live show. I was handling it way better than I thought I would, and I think it helped that Phil was so amused by it all. I couldn't be upset by something that made him this happy, and it was honestly a huge relief to not have to worry about someone finding out without our knowledge. At least we'd come out on our own terms.

"What are they saying today?" I asked, patting his sides gently. He squirmed a bit under my touch, and I snickered, knowing I'd found his ticklish spots.

"They're all mostly hoping for on screen kisses," he informed me with a smirk, peeking over the top of his phone. "And squealing in happiness." He touched the screen, scrolling again. "Hashtag Phanisreal is still in the top ten."

"And there it'll stay until the day we die," I reminded him. I did wonder how long it would actually be there. I wasn't stupid enough to think it would die down anytime soon, but would it still be there this time next year? Our fans weren't exactly normal.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

We'd made plans to meet Louise in the evening. As we headed for the Underground, I slipped my hand into Phil's, elation flooding through me at the realization that we'd be able to this all the time now. We wouldn't have to wait until we were in the safety and secrecy of our flat. We started down the steps toward the tube station, and our eyes met briefly. He'd decided to switch out his contacts for glasses for the evening, and I found it hard to look away. I kind of preferred them over the contacts, and I was always trying to talk him into wearing them more often.

We were stepping over the threshold into the train when I heard the voice. "There he is," the guy called out, moving from the crowd of people pouring out through the doors. He ran a hand over his shaved head and I automatically broke into a smile, thinking we were having another run-in with a fan, and walked over to greet him. He shook my hand eagerly, introducing himself as Kagan.

"I guess you know Phil," I said, holding a hand out. To my surprise, a scowl crossed Kagan's face. I lowered my hand, letting it drop to my side. There were two people standing behind Kagan, a man and woman who seemed almost nervous. I attributed it to them being star struck. Phil stepped forward, preparing to give one of them a hug- I knew how his thought process worked; this was his automatic reaction whenever we met fans.

"Hey," Kagan snapped suddenly, pressing a palm to Phil's chest. "No need to be cocky. We're not here to see _you_." Kagan turned his attention back to me with a warm smile, apparently thinking the conversation was going to continue after what he'd just said.

"We're leaving now," I announced, reaching over to take Phil's hand again. I made sure Kagan could see that, and it turned out to be a mistake.

"Can't believe you came out with him," he practically snarled, taking a step closer to us. "You could have anyone. Why would you settle for this loser?" Phil squeezed my hand then, and I glanced toward him to see that his lip was quivering slightly. Nobody else would notice it, but nobody else was as tuned in to his body as I was.

"Keep your opinions to yourself, please," I said as calmly as possible. The last thing I wanted to do was cause a scene in the middle of the Underground. I gave Phil's hand a tug and started walking. "Come on, babe." He latched onto my side as we walked past Kagan and his friends, but the guy apparently wasn't going to let it go.

"Must have pretty low standards," he continued, louder than before. There were people staring now. I balled my free hand into a fist, clenching and unclenching my fingers. "Hey, Dan, why are you wasting your time with this pathetic"-

That was as far as he got. Without really thinking about it, I twisted around, swinging my fist and hitting his jaw. He staggered back, holding his face with both hands, and fell into the embrace of the woman standing behind him. She looked at him with a pitiful expression and rubbed a soothing palm over his skin. There were a bunch of _ooh_ 's sounding out around us, and I locked eyes with Kagan once more.

"I said to keep your opinions to yourself." He glared daggers at me, but didn't make a move to retaliate. I ignored him anyway, turning my attention to Phil, who was looking between us with wide eyes. He'd never let go of my hand, and now I got the impression he was trying to hold me back. I welcomed the contact now, hoping to stay calm.

"Come on," he instructed, pulling me toward the train that was about to leave. We stepped on right as the doors were closing, separating us from the asshole who was still being cradled by the woman, whom I assumed was his girlfriend by the way she was kissing his cheek. As the train began to pull out of the station, I heard Kagan call out again, but I didn't bother trying to catch the actual words. Once we were gone, I turned to Phil and wrapped him up in my arms. He hugged me back tightly, burying his head in the side of my neck. These things never happened, but the hate he still got sometimes was one of the only things he couldn't deal with properly.

"I hate to encourage this behaviour," Phil murmured after a moment of silence, "but thanks for that."

"I love you," I responded, shrugging a shoulder. "Don't forget that."

 **A/N: Well, guys, here you go. Dan isn't having anyone's BS. I imagine he'd react this way IRL, too.**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Okay, so basically I'm sorry in advance because I know this is a really bad introduction, but I have plans for this fic and those plans involve this scene being necessary so please forgive me. I gave you lots of fluff to make up for it. Also, Dan swears a bit, but does that really need a warning?**

 **Ps: I don't own these people, just fyi.**

 **Leave reviews, please! Enjoy this.**

 **-Justin**

 **Chapter Three: Aftermath**

 **October 25, 2014**

"What's wrong with you, Uncle Dan?" Darcy came into the room and plopped down between Phil and me on the sofa. Phil reached out to pull her onto his lap and she squealed, wrapping both arms around one of his. I laughed lightly and then winced when the action caused the ice pack to slide off my hand. Before I could grab for it, Darcy bent forward, almost hanging upside down, and handed the pack to me with a giggle.

"I did something dumb," I told her, and her eyes widened. She looked down at my hand again, reaching out to touch the skin that was slowly becoming a giant bruise. I didn't think I'd broken anything, but it sure as fuck hurt. They weren't lying when they said adrenaline masked pain, because an hour had passed from the time I punched Kagan to about ten minutes ago, when I'd been talking to Louise and suddenly let out an inhuman noise when I felt something like a vice grip on my knuckles. She'd immediately gone to get ice before even asking why it hurt so bad, and then she'd spent the last few minutes scolding me for doing something so stupid. I couldn't blame her; it was incredibly idiotic, but I'd do it again.

"Mummy was mad at you," Darcy commented, letting her fingers brush over my palm. "She said it was romantic, but stupid." She giggled again, pulling her hands away. Phil stuck a hand in her hair and ruffled it up, causing her to cry out and slap him away. "No, no, no, Uncle Phil!" Her eyes narrowed to slits as she glared at him. "I don't like you anymore." She slid off his lap quickly and ran off into the next room. Phil just laughed; he and I both knew she'd be back in a few minutes for more cuddles.

"How's it feeling?" he asked gingerly, as if he was afraid I'd scream at him or something. He was bound and determined to believe this was his fault, despite the fact that it had been _my_ dumbass self who'd decided punching a jawbone was a good idea. "Do you need more ice?" He slid closer to me, leaning in slightly to see for himself. I reached out with my good hand and swept the fringe out of his eyes.

"It's fine," I tried to say, but he cut me off.

"It's not fine," he insisted, not for the first time. "You could have been arrested or he could have hit you back." This was only about the third time he'd started this speech, so I let him continue. He'd keep worrying until he got it out of his system, anyway. To my surprise, though, he didn't go on. Instead, he jumped up with a declaration of, "I'm going to get more ice."

He took one step and staggered to the side, nearly falling over. My hands shot out to catch him, the pain in my hand momentarily forgotten, but he stayed upright. He didn't look very good, though. "Phil," I cautioned, keeping one hand near his arm. "Are you okay?"

"I think so," he answered, but he didn't seem too sure of it. "I felt dizzy all of a sudden."

"Maybe you stood up too fast," I offered, touching his arm now. "Sit back down for a minute." He nodded once and turned to join me, but as he lifted his foot to move, his whole body tensed up for half a second, and then he flopped over, hitting the floor with a _thud_.

I stared at him in disbelief for about three heartbeats, and then my mouth opened, and I called for Louise. She ran into the lounge from the kitchen as I knelt down beside Phil, whose eyes were already opening again. He blinked a few times, looking around, and let out a low groan. If it weren't such a serious situation, it would have turned me on.

"What the Hell happened?" he and Louise both said at the same time, and a nervous giggle slipped through my teeth. I slid my good hand under his head, cradling it.

"I'm not sure," I admitted. He wiggled around a bit, trying to sit up, and I pressed into the back of his head in an attempt to help. He lifted an arm to latch onto my side, and once he was upright, I asked, "Are you alright?"

He started to nod, but stopped just as quick with a pained expression. "The room is spinning," he said, fingers clutching at my shirt. I'd all but forgotten about the almost-broken bones in my hand until I moved it to stroke through his hair soothingly. I hissed loudly at the onslaught of pain and curled my hand back to my chest protectively. I glanced around for the ice pack and found it on the floor near our feet.

"Uncle Phil okay?" Darcy appeared at Louise's shoulder, standing over us where we knelt beside Phil. Her eyes were wide, and she watched as Phil struggled into a sitting position, leaning against the arm of the sofa. He made a move to stand up, and I slapped a hand over his lap to push him back down.

"Slow down there," I commanded, pressing my palm to his thigh. "Let the blood get back to your brain first." I scooted back until I was next to him and he slumped over, resting his head on my shoulder.

"He's fine," Louise was saying, smiling up at Darcy. "He just got tired, I think." Darcy considered this for a moment, holding her chin in her hand, and then she nodded with a bright smile.

"I like to take naps on the floor, too, Uncle Phil," she informed him in a bubbly voice. I was still watching Phil, so I saw the tiny smile he gave in response, and then she skipped out of the room without another word. He nuzzled his head into my neck.

"I don't feel good," he mumbled against my skin. I brought my good arm around his shoulders, holding him close me, as he let out another sigh.

"You guys should stay here tonight," Louise offered after a moment. I'd been about to ask Phil if he wanted to go home, but she probably had a good point. I turned my head to ask Phil's opinion when I felt him slump heavily onto me. I knew without looking that he'd fallen asleep, and I tightened my grip instinctively. Louise noticed, too, and nodded as she stood up. "I'll make up the guest bed," she said softly, padding off to the hallway. I looked at Phil again.

"Wake up," I whispered, nudging his arm. His face scrunched up and he wrapped an arm around my waist. I patted him again, saying, "Come on. We'll get you in the bed." He grumbled a bit, but opened his eyes and pulled his arm away. He met my eyes with a somewhat dazed expression and I couldn't help but lean forward to press a kiss to his lips. My hand curled over his cheek, and he brought his own up to cover mine. He smiled as I pulled away, and then I stood up with an arm outstretched. "Come on, love. Louise is waiting for us."

I didn't miss the way he trembled slightly as he took my hand and pulled himself up. I wrapped an arm around him as we made our way to the bedroom, glancing toward him every few seconds to make sure he wasn't about to pass out again. My hand was still aching at this point, but I didn't think I'd need the ice pack through the night.

"Here you go," Louise announced from the doorway, smiling widely. I started to ask why she looked so happy, but I shut my mouth right back when I saw Darcy behind her, smoothing the duvet over the sheets. Well, she was trying to, anyway, but she wasn't quite tall enough, so it was mostly just her patting the covers and giggling. I could feel Phil's weight on me again, and I knew he was exhausted. I may not have been very familiar with what had just happened, but I knew that fainting spells took a lot out of people.

"Thanks," I told her, and she came over to kiss both our cheeks. She called for Darcy, who bounced to the door with a grin and asked again if Phil was okay. "He's sleepy," I explained, and she nodded. She raised an arm, gesturing for me to bend down. I leaned down as far as I could, bringing Phil with me, and she smiled widely as she placed a kiss on his nose.

"That's what mummy does to me when I feel bad," Darcy informed us. I couldn't tell if Phil had even noticed, but she was already gone, so I just fixed my grip on Phil and led him to the bed.

I braced myself in front of him and made him sit on the edge of the bed, but it proved to be more difficult than I'd imagined when both his hands fisted themselves in my shirt. He was holding on for dear life. I watched him for a moment and then went to pry them away. I wrapped my hands around his wrists and gently removed his fingers from my clothes, and his eyes shot open. "I'm not going anywhere," I promised him, because I knew what he was about to say. He got clingy when he was scared or stressed, and I figured tonight's events gave him a good reason to feel both. He tilted his chin to look at me with watery eyes.

"Shoes off," I instructed when he made no move to do anything. Right after I said it, I got down on my knees to pull them off myself while he rested a hand on my shoulder. I wondered if I should make him strip down because I knew how uncomfortable it was to sleep in skinny jeans. "Stand up for a sec," I finally decided, and he rose to his feet slowly. I slipped them off quickly and he stepped out of them almost robotically. I assumed it was a mixture of exhaustion and stress. He sat back down and laid his head on the pillow, drawing his legs up slightly.

"Don't go," he whimpered when I stepped away from him. His hand shot out again to grab my arm, and I could've sworn I saw a tear on his cheek. He was always the confident one of our little duo, the one who never had any trouble dealing with people. It'd been a long time since I'd seen him in such a mess, and it honestly made me want to cry. I bent down once more to be at eye-level with him. He was half-asleep, but he kept a death grip on my shirt.

"I'll be right back," I assured him, and then I took his hand in mine and moved it to his side. He just nodded, causing his fringe to cover his eyes. My hand reached out automatically to smooth it back, and I let my hand linger for a moment in an attempt to comfort him.

I left the bedroom to find Louise, but she was waiting right outside the door. "Is he okay?" she asked timidly, concern etched into every line of her face. She was like a mother to us both; I could only imagine how she felt right now.

"He's pretty anxious, I think." She nodded in agreement. She knew how he got. We looked at each other for a moment, and then she wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug. I hugged her back, stretching out my hand experimentally. It still hurt, but it was more of a dull throbbing now. I wondered why the pain had gone died down so quickly, and then I decided I didn't care.

"He's in good hands," she murmured, and then she stepped away. "Let me know if you need anything." It was my turn to nod as she turned on her heels and headed to her own bedroom. I watched as she peeked in on Darcy before I returned to Phil. He was still laying down, thank God, so I walked over to the other side and stripped down to my boxers before slipping under the covers behind him. He shifted a bit when I tossed an arm over his waist and settled himself so his back was flush with my chest. His legs wriggled around to twist with mine and he latched onto my arm with a vice grip. There was no part of his body that wasn't touching mine in some way, and I just pressed myself even closer so I could press my lips to the back of his neck. He sighed softly and tilted his head back slightly.

"I love you," he whispered, to my surprise. I'd been sure he was fast asleep. I smiled in the darkness and nuzzled into his neck.

"I love you, too," I said, pressing another kiss to his skin. His body went slack then, and I curled around him protectively, silently offering assurance that he'd get through the night.

 **A/N: I really hope you liked this! Let me know how you feel.**


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: I hope you like angst, because there's a lot. I'M SORRY OKAY? It'll be worth it, I promise.**

 **Warning: Swearing. I know I say it every time, but there's actually a fair amount of it this time. Just FYI, you know?**

 **As always, enjoy and leave a review!**

 **-Justin**

 **Chapter Four: Unexpected**

 **November 11, 2010 (Phil)**

"Surgery?"

Dan stared the doctor down with wide eyes. His hand found mine and latched on with a death grip. I looked between him and the man standing before us, watching wearily. Dan's face was colourless, all the blood having drained from his cheeks at the mention of _surgery_. As far as I knew, he'd never had to experience it before now, and the fear was evident on his face, mixing in with the pain etched across his forehead.

"I'm afraid so," the man said- I think his name was Spencer?- as he nodded his head slowly. "Your appendix could rupture at any moment." Dan's eyes shifted to meet mine, glossy and shining with tears threatening to spill over. His grip on my hand tightened further, almost painful, but I didn't say anything. Dr. Spencer looked to me briefly before continuing. "If you'd like, I can leave you with your friend to discuss it." I didn't miss the way Dan's brow furrowed at the word _friend_ , and I would have laughed if it weren't so stressful. Sometimes I forgot that there were people who didn't ship us.

"He's my boyfriend," Dan grumbled.

"That'll be fine," I cut in before he could say anything else. "Just give us a few minutes." I flashed my sweetest smile at him, and he simply nodded before leaving the room. Dan was shaking his head as soon as the doctor had turned his back.

"You know you have to," I said softly, leaning down to be closer. I reached out with my free hand to smooth his hair back, creating a quiff that I couldn't help but laugh at. "I know you don't want to, but you heard what the doctor said, love. If it bursts, they might not be able to get to it in time."

He was silent for almost a minute, eyes closed and clutching my hand, while I stroked my fingers through his hair in an attempt to calm him down. Finally, his lips moved. "I know," he whispered. "I don't want that." Eyelids fluttered, and his expression made me want to crawl under the covers and hold him close. "But I'm scared." His voice broke on the last word, and I couldn't take it anymore. He _yelp_ ed as I moved to sit beside him, but he quickly settled into my embrace as I wrapped an arm around him. The nurses would just have to deal with it.

"It's okay to be scared," I assured him, tilting my head to rest on top of his. "I'll stay right here with you until they force me away, and then when you open your eyes, I'll be the first thing you see." I heard a soft giggle and pulled back just a bit to see his face. "How does that sound?"

"I could live with that." He gave a weak smile, and I went to press my lips to his cheek, where one tear had finally broken free. He palmed my cheek, curling his fingers over my jaw, and when I pulled away, he tugged me right back down to his lips.

"Press the button when you're ready," I mumbled against him, gesturing toward the control clipped to the blanket. "You'll be okay. I promise."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 **October 26, 2014**

Phil was still slightly unsteady. Louise had tried to talk us into staying with her another night, but I'd politely declined. I knew she meant well, but Phil had already expressed a desire- more than once- to go back home and I knew he would feel better once he was surrounded by familiar stuff.

We stood on the platform in the underground, waiting for the next train to arrive. Phil hadn't let go of my hand once since we left Louise's place, and I was looking forward to getting him away from these crowds. He let his head rest on my shoulder while we waited.

"Well, well," said a voice to our right. I ignored it at first; there were a lot of people talking. When the voice spoke again, my hands automatically clenched into fists. "Look who decided to show his face again."

"Fuck," I muttered, low enough that only Phil could hear. He straightened up immediately and looked around. I saw the colour drain from his cheeks when he laid eyes on the person who was currently speaking. He stepped closer, making our sides touch, and latched his other hand onto my arm. I guessed he was already preparing to hold me back, which wasn't a bad idea since I already kind of wanted to hit him again.

"Gonna let him fight his own battle this time, Danny boy?" Kagan appeared in front of me, practically spitting his words. It'd been almost two days since this guy had seen us, and he looked just as pissed as he'd been right after I decked him. Someone shuffled beside him, and I noticed his lady friend swaying anxiously at his side. She had one hand on his shoulder, but that was pointless. I looked back to Kagan, smiling in approval when I saw the purple splotch of a bruise on his jaw. He caught me looking and brought one hand to his chin, rubbing the skin roughly. Was he trying to tell me it didn't hurt? I didn't give a shit about his pain level.

"Babe, come on," the girl whispered harshly, trying to pull him back. "They're not worth it." He shoved her off, stepping away. She threw her hands up and backed off, joining an older man who watched me with angry eyes.

"First of all," I started, holding a hand up. "Don't call me that. Second, there's no battle to be fought." I made a shooing motion with my fingers. "So run along now. Nobody has time for this."

"You ought to make time," Kagan sneered, taking another step toward me. I could feel Phil pressing against me, and I sort of wished he'd get out of the line of fire. "So tell me, boys, which one of you takes the meat? My money's on this one- he jabbed a finger into Phil's arm and Phil recoiled away- since he's hanging on you like a clingy girlfriend." I actually took a step back because I was so unprepared for that outburst, and I opened my mouth to tell him off.

"Leave us alone," Phil demanded suddenly, beating me to it. I was actually a little shocked, because he never did that. It was one of the internet's favorite things about him. The train was pulling into the station, screeching horrifically, so I gave Phil's arm a tug and led him away from the circle of people who'd gathered. Kagan followed, of course.

"Don't walk away from me," he spat at us, stepping in front and blocking our path.

"Get out of the way," I responded, shoving past him. I was done with this. The doors opened and I made sure Phil was in front of me before I pushed him through, weaving around the annoyed people trying to get off. I guided him to a bench in the corner and sat him down, watching behind us and hoping that idiot hadn't decided to follow us again. I could see him standing on the platform still, lips moving quickly. It looked like he was talking to the girl, but I couldn't be bothered to care. Still, I didn't really breathe until the door finally slid shut and a voice crackled over the PA to announce the places we'd be stopping at. "Are you okay?" I asked, turning my attention to Phil. He looked like he was about to be sick.

"I'm sorry," he said, leaning into my side. I wrapped an arm around him automatically; it was a reflex by this point.

"What for?" I asked, running a hand up and down his arm. "It was all his fault." As soon as the words left my mind, I realized what he could have been apologizing for. He was the one who'd wanted to do it, after all. I mean, I did, too, but he'd never had any doubts. "Don't apologize for that," I told him. "We knew there'd be hate, and we agreed that it was worth it." I took his face in my palm and made him look at me. "I agreed to that. He'll get bored of it eventually."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Something wasn't right. I could feel it before I even opened my eyes, but the feeling only got worse when I realized Phil wasn't beside me. I got up immediately, preparing for the worst. Call me pessimistic, but I'd rather be pleasantly surprised if all he's doing is sneaking my cereal at three in the morning.

I didn't hear the usual sounds floating out of the kitchen. Usually, I'd hear something banging around and then a muffled curse after he inevitably smacked his head on the cupboard door he'd left open. I wasn't surprised to find the kitchen dark and empty, but that only made the pit in my stomach hurt worse. I knew he wasn't in his bedroom, because the door had been standing wide open.

The lounge light was on. I saw this before I got to the doorway, and I froze. It was just like that moment in the horror movie where the main character realizes they're trapped in the house with the scary murderer. There was still silence, and finally I burst into the lounge to see what the hell was going on. I ended up tripping over Phil, because he was sprawled out in front of the sofa, face down.

"Jesus, Phil," I groaned, pushing myself up. "I'm the one who has the crises around here." He didn't move, even after I'd basically kicked the shit out of him. I was on my knees, about to stand up. Instead I crawled over to his side and took hold of his arm. There was literally no resistance as I lifted it up. I was ill prepared for that, and ended up letting go; his palm smacked the carpet and flopped. My breath hitched in my throat when I realized the seriousness of this situation.

"Goddamn it," I muttered. His phone was on the floor beside him. I took it and dialed 999, feeling the dread bubble up like nausea in my stomach.

"Police, fire, or ambulance," inquired the electronic voice. It only took a few seconds to reach an actual person, who immediately started in with questions about what'd happened. I wasn't very helpful; the lady on the other end just asked more questions. Finally, she said the words I really didn't want to hear. I hadn't even know how strongly I felt until she was telling me, "Sir, the ambulance is on its way." There was a pause and then, "Do you have aspirin, by chance?"

"Aspirin?"

"Yes, if your friend is having heart troubles, it can help thin the blood and prevent some damage." Her voice was calm, as if she gave these instructions to a thousand people every day. Maybe she did.

"He's bloody unconscious," I informed her. "How will that work?"

"Put it under his tongue and let it dissolve. That's what the paramedics will do when they get there. You'll just be helping speed things along."

"Alright then," I conceded, getting to my feet. She'd said not to hang up until the medics got here, so I held the phone to my ear as I went through the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. By the time I got back to his side and had the tablet stuck in his mouth, I could hear the sirens. Two minutes later, people were pounding on the door. When the three of them crowded around Phil, I was suddenly aware of how small he looked. Small and frail and vulnerable. He was wearing his Star Wars pyjama pants- I'd forgotten about him putting them on last night. He was bare-chested, which was probably better for the medics. I couldn't stop staring at the small bruise on his neck, a remnant of what I'd done to him earlier that night in an attempt to make him forget about our encounter in the underground.

"Are you coming as well, sir?" asked one of them. I nodded without a second thought. Of course I was going with them. I wanted to laugh at that, but I was pretty sure if I started laughing, I'd end up crying. It was all crashing down on me at once, and I was hyperaware of how possible it was that this could turn into a tragedy. Someone pressed something into my hands, and I stuck it in my pocket without looking. I felt numb all of a sudden.

There was a hand on my arm, guiding me, and I followed blindly. Into the back of the ambulance, followed by Phil and the two carrying him. They locked him in place and then we were speeding off toward Whittington, or A&E. I didn't know which one we'd get to first. I watched his face for a while, covered by an awful-looking oxygen mask. My hand reached out to his, searching for something that simply wasn't there at the moment. He didn't squeeze my fingers when I grasped his palm, and my heart seized in my chest. I wasn't the type of person to really express feelings. At least, not to anyone besides him, and maybe Louise. I'd have to call her at some point. I brought his hand to my cheek, ignoring the looks I got from the medics, and held his palm to my skin, jolting slightly when I realized my face was wet. Of course I'd only start crying once I was surrounded by strangers.

I prayed to a God I didn't really believe in and hoped I'd see his eyes again soon.

 **A/N: I'm hopefully going to be updating Little Moments in the next few days, so be on the lookout for that!**


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: Time for some angsty angst. I'm still pretty horrible at writing it, but it's getting better.**

 **Warnings: like, one swear word, some body image discussion, medical jargon (!), and yeah.**

 **Also fluff, but you might as well just expect it at this point.**

 **Reviews are cherished...enjoy!**

 **-Justin**

 **Chapter Five: Wake Up**

 **November 12, 2010 (Phil)**

I held his hand while I waited for him to wake up. He'd just been moved to recovery, and they'd finally given me the all-clear to join him in the semi-private room. It'd been a total success, but he'd be in a lot of pain for the next few weeks. Every five minutes, a nurse came through the curtain to check vital signs and fiddle with the needles in his arm. On the fourth trip, she walked over to me instead.

"Each time is different," she said softly, placing a hand on my shoulder. I nodded in response, eyes glued to Dan's face, watching his soft movements as he slept. "He'll wake up any minute now." I could hear the smile in her voice as she removed her hand and walked over to the monitor over his bed. Her fingers tapped the screen a few times, and then there was a low screech as a paper printed out the side. I glanced over to watch her take the print-out, eyeing the badge on her lapel. The blonde-haired face on the shiny surface didn't match the one with dark hair pulled tight.

I jumped when I felt him squeeze my hand. My eyes went immediately to his, where his eyelids were fluttering. The soft and steady beeping on the monitor increased slightly, and the woman let out a little shout of joy. "Here we go," she announced, stepping closer to the bed. She kept her distance, though, and I was grateful for it. I'd promised him I'd be the first person he saw.

He looked right at me when his eyes finally opened. He was smiling, the corners of his lips curling up and creating two dimples that were just one of the many things I loved about him. "Hey, Bear," I murmured, rubbing my thumb over the back of his hand. "Everything was perfect."

"Mmm," was the only thing that passed his lips. He closed his eyes again, just for a moment, and then they were open wide and watching me with an expression that always knocked the breath right out of me. His grip tightened on my hand and his lips parted slightly as he uttered, barely audible, "Good."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 **October 27, 2014**

My foot tapped relentlessly on the tiled floor as I waited for some kind of news. Louise was sat beside me, running a hand up and down my arm in a soothing manner, and I didn't have the heart to tell her that it wasn't helping in the slightest. Every so often, my eyes would shift to look toward the double doors near the back of the waiting room, watching for a sign of someone come to tell us something. A few more minutes passed, and I began chewing on a thumbnail.

"Dan, he's going to be fine," Louise tried to reassure me. "Try not to worry so much." Her voice quavered slightly, so she wasn't even listening to herself. She knew as well as I did what the chances were that he'd make it through this. He'd been lucky, apparently, because the blood clot had broken in two before passing through his heart; if it hadn't, he'd have died right there on our lounge floor. I tried not to dwell on that fact for very long.

"I know," I lied, giving her my most convincing smile. We'd been waiting for hours- did it really take that long to open up his chest?

Five minutes or hours later, a doctor appeared at the doors. We were the only ones in the room, so I didn't wait for him to ask if we were the right people. Louise slipped her hand into mine and I held on tightly, grateful for the contact.

"He's stable for now," the man said- his badge said Spencer-, looking over a clipboard. His puke-coloured scrubs were stained with blood right above his chest- I wondered if he knew. I wondered if it was Phil's blood. I remembered everything that could have gone wrong in that operating room and then I felt Louise's fingers squeezing my palm, forcing me back to reality. "He's in recovery, should wake up soon." Dr. Spencer continued, and then his features twisted into an uncomfortable expression. "I have to warn you, though. Mr. Lester's oxygen levels were dangerously low when he was brought into surgery. There's no telling what kind of damage that's done to his brain." He glanced between us before moving on. "We'll prepare scans once he's awake and alert, but you need to be prepared for the possibility of amnesia."

"What does that mean?" I asked, though I knew exactly what it meant. I didn't know why I bothered. I didn't want to hear the answer.

"It means he might not remember you," Dr. Spencer finished, sorrow crossing his face momentarily before resuming the aura of professionalism. I wanted to know how many times he had to say that to someone's loved ones, but I kept my mouth shut for now. What was I supposed to do if that was what happened? I couldn't think about it, not right now. He shuffled on his feet, passed the clipboard to his other hand. Suddenly, there was a loud beeping in his pocket. He stuck a hand in and pulled out a pager- who still used pagers? - and then he was smiling. "He's just woken up," he told us proudly, as if it were his son who'd just made the football team. "If you'll come with me…" He gestured with his palm as he turned on his heels, and I fell into stride close behind him, towing Louise along.

"It'll be okay, Dan," she whispered to me, low enough that Dr. Spencer couldn't hear. "No matter what, it'll be okay." She squeezed my hand once more and then we were standing on one side of curtain. Suddenly, I couldn't wait any longer, and my hand reached out to yank the curtain back.

Phil was attached to a lot of things. Two needles in his right arm, a pressure cuff wrapped tight around his left. Something bulky strapped to his left index finger, something else beeping steadily behind him. Louise kept a firm grip on my arm as I stood there to take it all in, and then my eyes fell on his face. I'd almost forgotten about the memory loss.

He was watching me.

"Dan," came his whispered voice, and I could have melted into the floor right then. There were tubes wrapped over his cheeks, tiny nubbins poking into his nostrils. I realized quickly that it was oxygen tubing and remembered the doctor saying how low his levels had been. He wore a godawful green checkered gown, and I could see white from a bandage poking through a gap on his right side, and he looked frailer than I'd ever seen him in my life, but none of that mattered right now. The only thing that mattered was that he was alive, in this room, saying my name with that expression in his eyes that never failed to take my breath away.

"Philly," I mumbled, pulling away from Louise and going to his side. The relief I was feeling in that moment was enough to spill tears, and I hoped he didn't notice them. He stretched his arm out, lifting the hand with the tiny machine on one finger, and I let him gather me into a one-armed hug, pressing a kiss to his temple. "They said you might not remember," I blurted out, already exhausted from the intense relief of pressure in my head. I slid down until I was sitting in a strategically placed chair, never letting go of him.

"I couldn't forget you," he said with a smile. He raised his hand once more to stroke my cheek, but it dropped suddenly. "I love you," he started, laughing softly, "but I'm really tired." He shuffled a bit then, and winced. "And sore."

"I love you too, baby," I promised, reaching out to smooth his hair back where it'd started to curl around his forehead. I knew how much he hated it like that. "Go on back to sleep; we'll still be here when you wake up."

He nodded once, eyelids already sliding shut, and then his body fell slack, chest rising and falling steadily. I tore my eyes away from him to look back at Louise, who was stood in the makeshift doorway, which was really just a gap in between two curtains, smiling widely with tears on her cheeks. I couldn't say much- I knew my face looked just as bad. I walked over to her and wrapped her up in my arms. "Told you," she muttered against my chest, and I didn't have to see her face to know she was grinning.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The road to recovery was evidently three weeks long. As soon as I'd left the room Phil was in, Dr. Spencer had led Louise and I to a small office, where one nurse was already waiting. "I'm very happy with the turnout," he began, almost excitedly. "Almost ninety percent of our patients with oxygen-deprived brain damage present with some degree of memory loss." He glanced down at a stack of notes. "However, while his mind seems to have handled the stress well enough, his physical body has not."

I braced myself for the worst.

"When the body is deprived of oxygen for any length of time," Dr. Spencer continued, "the body's systems go into haywire. Brain cells don't send enough signals, or they send too many. Chemical imbalances occur, and even the muscles are affected." He looked down again. "Has Mr. Lester been under a lot of stress recently?"

My thoughts went immediately to the asswipe from the underground. "We came out to our fans last week," I explained, watching closely as he scribbled things down on his pad. "One of them wasn't too happy about it, confronted us in the tube station. Phil's never been good at handling the hate comments."

Dr. Spencer only nodded, not forcing me to go further into detail. The nurse standing behind him never uttered a word, and I wondered if she was just in here for legal reasons. To make sure he didn't try to kill us or rape us or lie to us or something. "We'll be admitting him to Room 314," he told us, sliding over a tiny slip of paper. "Go on up there to the waiting room, and a nurse will collect you once he's been transported."

Louise and I both nodded, rising to our feet simultaneously. She led the way this time, letting me hold on to the piece of paper with Phil's room number written on it. We passed by Phil's curtained-off cubicle during our walk back to the main lobby. I peeked in for a moment before anyone could shoo me away and watched him sleep. His hair was curling around the edges again, glistening with sweat. It was strange how we both hated our own natural hair but loved each other's, but that was just one of the many not-normal things about us.

After a few seconds, Louise was tugging on my wrist, and I followed her through the heavy double-doors into the lobby, where she looked around for a moment before spotting the elevator bank.

It didn't take long to find the third-floor waiting room, and as we settled into chairs in the corner, I allowed myself to lean into her side. Louise was the only one, besides Phil, who could make me relax just by being near to me. It helped that she was equally as worried- Phil was like a son to her, even though she was only a couple years older than him. The events of the day were already weighing me down, despite how well things had turned out, considering.

"I'll wake you up when he gets here," Louise said to me, nudging my shoulder. "Go on and rest."

 **A/N: I'm truly sorry for the angst, because I hate it so much in other fics when I'm reading.**


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: so I may have lied about not liking angst, because there's angst in this chapter. O BOY IS THERE ANGST. Also, quite a bit of swearing, because this is a Dan who's dangerously close to breaking, and we all know how bad he gets under stress, and I think this situation qualifies?**

 **Anyway, I'm sorry in advance, but probably not really since I'll probably do it again.**

 **Enjoy and leave a review!**

 **-Justin**

 **Chapter Six: Recovery**

 **December 15, 2014**

 _gonna be live in 20 mins._

Nobody thought it was a good idea for me to do a live show this week, but as I was a stubborn little shit, I was doing one anyway. I'd gone home to film, and then I'd sat in the office for hours to edit, and then I'd spent the night browsing tumblr, reading the various discussions regarding my ability to handle the current shitstorm in my life. Some people honestly believed I was doing great, and I really wished those people could convince the others, the ones who were constantly filling my ask box and twitter mentions and comments with concerns for my mental health or physical well-being. Even if I _was_ falling apart inside, nobody needed to know.

He still hadn't woken up, not for seven weeks now. Nobody could give me an actual explanation for why he was able to open his eyes and talk to me and then slip into this coma. Everyone just said it was because his brain didn't have enough oxygen, and when the brain didn't have enough oxygen, people went into comas. Nobody knew how long he'd be this way, or if he'd ever even wake up at all. And then, as if things couldn't possibly get any worse, there was almost a 100% chance of memory loss if he did wake up. So those were my choices at the moment: Lose him or lose him. Fan-fucking-tastic.

"Hey, guys," I announced when the broadcast finally began. I was sat in the corner of the hospital room, trying to hide the fact that I was two feet from Phil. Of course they picked up on the new location, and _of course_ they knew exactly where I was, but I ignored the comments asking about it and focused on my own image through the screen, hoping I wouldn't cry or something and give the world something new to obsess over.

I kept peeking over the laptop, watching Phil's chest moving up and down steadily. He wore a ventilator now, because he couldn't breathe on his own in that state. The tube sticking out of his mouth was terrifying, and I was almost afraid to get near him while it was there, because I just knew I'd trip over something and somehow break the machine keeping him alive.

 _ **dan its okay to not be okay**_

The chat was moving pretty slowly tonight. Nobody seemed to have any witty things to say, and I accredited at least some of that to the fact that now there was no 'proof' to expose. However, one comment popped up suddenly, and I couldn't stop staring at it. "You guys sure are quiet tonight," I said with a laugh, hoping for spam to push that one comment out of view. A few people sent messages about how they could say the same about me, but it just wasn't going anywhere.

Halfway through, I decided to end it early. "I'm sorry, guys," I told them, "It was a stupid idea to do this now." My eyes searched the room again, falling on the duvet covering Phil from the waist down. Green and blue squares staring me into a corner.

 _ **Don't apologize, we understand**_

 _ **you're too stubborn howell**_

 _ **we all know where you really wanna be so don't be sorry**_

 _ **its okay to not be okay**_

There was that message again. I didn't give myself time to dwell on it as I said my goodbyes and ended the show with promises of filming new content soon. I knew it was a lie and they knew it was a lie, but I had to do something to keep some aspect of normalcy in my life right now, and if that meant pretending that everything was fine and dandy, then that's what I'd do.

I stared a hole into the blank screen for a while, and then I slammed the lid down and moved it to the side. My phone was going off nonstop and I was sure it was all twitter mentions asking if I was okay.

I wanted to scream, but I settled for walking over to Phil and sitting in the chair by his side. His left hand still had the oxygen monitor attached to one finger, and there were now three needles sticking out of his arms, but his right hand was free to hold, and that's what I spent a lot of time doing. "I tried to do a live show," I began, falling into the routine I'd followed for a month now. Dr. Spencer had said familiar voices help, and I'd been skeptical at first (not to mention embarrassed), but I was way past it now. I didn't give a shit who heard me, nor did I care what they heard. I'd say or do just about anything if it meant getting to see his blue eyes again.

"Someone kept saying it was okay to not be okay," I continued, looking down at our hands. His was limp and unresponsive, no matter how hard I squeezed. His fingers were more skeletal than usual, bony knuckles poking out like little spikes. I ran my thumb over them, some irrational part of my brain thinking that maybe I could smooth them down a bit. "They just kept typing it into the chat."

I wasn't okay, not in any sense of the word. It felt like half of me was gone. I tried my best to not fall into a dark hole, but it was hard to keep my sanity when I really thought about how dependent I was on him to get me through the day. He was the one who talked me through my crises, and he was the one who turned off all the lights before bed so I wouldn't have to walk through the dark hallway. I missed the horrible puns and the way he'd wake me up way too early in the morning because he was too blind to find his glasses. I wanted to feel his hands on me again. I wanted to feel his fingers brushing out my fringe even though he knew I hated it because he also knew he was the one person who could get away with it. I wanted a lot of things right now, but mostly I just wanted him to open his goddamn eyes and look at me with that expression he'd given me every single day since the first meeting almost six years ago. I could see it now in my head, eyes crinkling in the corners, lips curling up. Sometimes he'd smile so hard there'd be wrinkles on his forehead, and I loved to point them out.

"You're such a shit," I ended up saying out loud, still holding his hand tight. I looked at his face; if you ignored the tube in his throat, he actually looked quite peaceful. My other hand shot out on its own to smooth his hair back. The dark fringe was starting to curl; it'd been a few days since I snuck a flat iron in to straighten it. They all knew I did it, but we seemed to have an unspoken agreement that meant I could do it as long as nobody actually caught me. I twisted my fingers in his hair and combed it out, mostly for my own benefit. Of course, that just made me start thinking about how long it'd been since I felt his fingers in _my_ hair, and I started wondering if I'd ever feel it again, and the next thing I knew, I was pressing a fist in my mouth to stifle the horrible noises coming from my throat.

I didn't want to cry in front of him. If what they were saying was true, he didn't need to hear it. I'd been strong enough up to this point, but now everything was literally falling apart, and I had nothing left to hide behind. Images of him in a coffin, speaking at his funeral, talking about how big an impact he'd had in my life. Standing with people around a cemetery plot, trying not to break down as they lowered the box into the ground. Fresh flowers once a month on the gravestone.

"You listen to me, Philip Michael Lester." I was surprised to hear my own voice again, and I had to flex my fist to figure out where I'd put my hand, which turned out to be down at my side. I really was a mess right now. "I refuse to give a eulogy for you this early. That's not going to happen until we're both bald and tripping each other with our canes." I was leaning down, getting right in his face, and I couldn't help but laugh a little because if someone walked in on me right now, it'd probably be hilarious. "You don't get to walk into someone's life and insert yourself like this. You don't get to become the most important person in my little world and then go and do something like this."

I stood up without fully realizing it. I was crying now, beyond the point of caring if someone saw it. It just felt damn good to release some of the feelings I was ignoring. "You're going to wake up, I know, because there's no way you're done pestering me. You've got a lot more bad puns to make, and a whole bunch of inappropriate innuendos to share." I was standing in the doorway now, but I knew where I was going. I would find a nice place to tuck myself away for a few hours and have my little breakdown, and then I'd come back and maybe try to make a video.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I was gone for ten fucking minutes when I got the call.

"Louise?" I'd asked, because she was supposed to be at some kind of school thing with Darcy.

"Where are you?" she'd nearly screeched, and I'd had to pull the phone away from my ear with a grimace.

"Courtyard," I'd answered vaguely. I actually wasn't sure where I was, but I also didn't really care at the moment. "Where are you?"

"I'm with Phil," she'd said casually. Too casually. She must have gotten done with the school thing and decided to come see us. "He's awake," she'd said next, and the phone slipped from my hand, crashing to the ground and somehow landing in the grass. I'd bent down and fumbled with it for half a minute before getting it back to my face. "They took the tube out, and he's asking for you."

I ran.

He'd woken up, against pretty much all odds, and he was asking for me. It shouldn't have been allowed for both of those things to happen, but they had. And I'd missed it. He'd finally opened his eyes after a month and a half, and I'd managed to not be there for it. It was such a typical thing to happen to me, to us. I was crying and laughing and heaving my chest by the time I got back to the room, and I didn't stop to give myself a chance to catch my breath before bursting through the door and looking toward the bed.

There they were. Blue and green and yellow swirling around in an ocean I'd be fine with drowning in, two pools of light watching me. His face almost looked strange without the nasty tube in the way. His skin was pale (paler than usual, I mean) and his cheeks were sunken in, and those oxygen nubbins were back in his nose, but I barely registered these things as I made my way across the tiles to him. Louise stood by the window with Darcy on her hip, a nurse was asking him a question about pain. None of those people existed right now.

My knees gave out on me around the time they brushed up against the side of his bed. I was kneeling on the hard floor, mind reeling, unable to decide what to do first. My hands reached out to cup his cheeks, reveling in the warmth they now radiated. Moving on to his hands, which squeezed mine back for the first time in almost two months, and then he was raising an arm and wrapping it around me weakly, so weak I wasn't even sure what he was trying to do at first. And then I couldn't stop the tears when I realized he was trying to hug me, and I wrapped my own arms around him as gently as I could because he looked like it might break him in half, and I held him to me, silently thanking whoever might be listening.

"Dan," he rasped out, voice somehow cracking with just one word. "I… I… you." Whatever he'd just said made no sense, but I couldn't have cared less as I pulled away from him to hold his face again. He was frighteningly frail, but apparently also impatient because when I didn't lean in immediately, he lifted his head from the pillow and pressed his lips to mine with a force I hadn't thought would be possible, given his physical state. He held himself to me for a few seconds, and then he fell back, releasing my lips with a soft _smack_.

"I love you." They were the only words I needed to say to him right now.

"Ye-…s," was his response, and I tilted my head in confusion. His brow furrowed suddenly, like he was concentrating very hard on something, and then he opened his mouth to say, "Lo-ove." Pause. "Y-ou." I didn't understand what was going on, but it could wait. At the very least, until the doctor came back in. I smiled in response to his words- even if I couldn't make it out, I knew he was telling me he loved me- and brought our lips together once more, doing all the work this time so it could last longer.

 **A/N: Oh wow I am sorry.**


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: Alright, we got some POV switcheroos happening but don't worry, I've got them distinguished. (This might happen again in the future, just fyi)**

 **This chapter's got it all: angst, fluff, giggles. You'll like it.**

 **I'm pretty excited about this new plot device, so I hope you enjoy it!**

 **Reviews are cherished!**

 **-Justin**

 **Chapter Seven: Misconstrue**

 **December 16, 2014**

 **(Phil)**

When I'd first opened my eyes, I wasn't that disappointed to see that Dan wasn't in the room. After all, it'd only been a few hours- or so I'd thought- since he'd appeared in the makeshift doorway and looked at me with those chocolate eyes that he hated sometimes. It'd only been a few hours since I'd wrapped an arm around him awkwardly, the best I could do in the situation we'd gotten ourselves in. They'd mentioned something about memory loss, about how I shouldn't feel bad if I couldn't remember him right off the bat, but I just laughed because there was no way I'd ever be able to forget him.

Of course, that was before reality sunk in like a rusty knife in my chest.

The first thing I was aware of was his absence. Immediately after, I became aware of a presence in my throat that was making these horrible noises and practically gagging me. My hands went to grab at the thing, but right as I had a grip on the tube that was sticking out of my mouth in a way that made me look scary, I caught sight of Louise standing at the foot of my bed, one hand clamped over her mouth, and a very frightened Darcy clinging to her hip.

She'd fled the room then, and came back with two more people. I recognized the man as Dr. Spencer, who came over to me and started checking things all over, while the woman next to him began tapping things out on a screen attached to the wall. I couldn't really hear what they were saying to each other because my ears were ringing so loudly. After a few minutes, though, both of them came to stand on either side of me, and suddenly the god-awful tubing was gone, but now there was fire in my throat and I didn't think I'd ever be able to talk again.

Nobody had said anything at first, but then Dr. Spencer was leaning over the bed with a clipboard in one hand and asking if I knew where I was.

"Whittington," I'd whispered (that was as loud as my voice was going to go), and his eyes widened. "Was the surgery okay?" I hadn't had the chance to ask while I was in recovery. I'd been so exhausted. They went on to ask me who I was, what year it was, and all kinds of other things that seemed unnecessary to me. I was answering in simple terms, so I hadn't yet learned the true severity of what was going on.

"There's no easy way to say this, Mr. Lester," he began, "so I'll just say it. You've been in a coma for two months."

It's funny how the first thing that came to mind was Dan. My mind immediately went to a dark place, creating a scenario in which Dan wasn't here because he couldn't handle the stress. Of course, I couldn't blame him if he'd decided he needed to move on, but the thought of not seeing him again- or worse, seeing him- made my heart seize up, and suddenly the machine behind me was going haywire. The nurse to my right jerked her head up and twisted around to press buttons while Louise stepped forward to touch my arm. Darcy clung to her, but watched me with wide eyes.

"Da-n." His name slipped out before I could stop it, and I felt the colour flooding my cheeks. They probably thought it was hilarious that he was the first thing I thought of.

To my surprise, though, Louise's eyes lit up and she smiled so widely that her forehead crinkled. "He's out getting some air," she told me, already reaching for her phone. He was here? He hadn't left me? My brain didn't know what to do with that, so I just laid there and nodded while she left the room to call him (I assumed). Darcy went with her, one tiny fist wrapped in the fabric of Louise's skirt.

I could remember the talk about memory loss. I was still thinking about it when Louise came back into the room with a grin on her face. "He's coming," she announced, walking over to the window and sitting in the chair that someone had put there.

My eyes settled on the door frame, and I waited.

Five minutes later, he burst into the room, chest heaving and breathless. His eyes met mine for the first time in what felt like forever, and then he was moving toward me with his hands outstretched, slow steps bringing him closer until he was pressing right up against the side of the bed, and then he fell to his knees.

His hands reached out to touch my face, palms cradling my cheeks, and then moving them along to my hands where he squeezed my fingers and I squeezed back. I wanted more contact, though, so I raised my arm up to wrap around his neck in the best attempt at a hug I had to offer. He only hesitated a moment before returning the embrace, and I could barely feel how much it hurt to hold my arm in the air like that.

"Dan, I," I croaked out, hating the way my voice cracked after only one word. He needed to know that I hadn't forgotten him, that he was still the most important one in my life. The words were so clear in my head, and I almost thought I was already saying them out loud, but he hadn't reacted at all, so I couldn't have. I tried again. "I... you." That wasn't right at all. The most important word had been left out completely! I opened my mouth to try a third time, but his hands on my face once more stopped me. He was gazing at me with an intensity I'd almost forgotten about, but he didn't make a move. I didn't want to wait.

It was extremely frustrating to not have any strength left, but it was especially maddening that I couldn't even support myself long enough to properly kiss him. I fell back to the pillow with a sigh. "I love you," he said. His smiled was wide enough to show his dimple and put wrinkles around his eyes.

"Ye-…s," I responded, but I hadn't even meant to say anything. Why was it so hard to get words out of my mouth? Everything was fine in my head, but I couldn't get my brain to cooperate with my lips, and everything was sounding wrong. I knew what I wanted to say to him, but I was starting to think none of it would come out the way I intended. Still, I would keep trying. At least I knew he wouldn't make fun of me for it. "Lo-ove," I rasped, wincing internally at the demon-like quality of my tone. "Y-ou." I was almost tempted to make heart hands in order to get my point across, and I would have done it if he hadn't suddenly grinned and leaned down to kiss me again. His lips were softer than I'd remembered, and it was nicer because I didn't have to lift my head.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 **December 17, 2014**

 **(Dan)**

He had expressive aphasia. I had no idea what the fuck it meant, but Dr. Spencer had explained it to us the best he could. Apparently, the lack of oxygen to Phil's brain had messed up some of the wires, specifically in the part that processed language. That meant he could think up a sentence, but he couldn't say it out loud, because the connection required to combine the two actions was faulty now. It explained why he'd had so much trouble talking to me last night after he'd woken up, but honestly I couldn't have cared if the brain trauma had paralyzed him- I was just happen to drown in his eyes again.

"Is 't per…mnent?" Phil asked, watching Dr. Spencer with wide eyes. He was currently sat in a chair across from us (I was sitting in the bed with him and I didn't give a shit who saw), asking more questions about the world. He said it was to figure out the extent of the damage, but I thought it was pretty obvious since Phil couldn't even talk anymore. The worst part about it was that Dr. Spencer apparently had little experience with aphasia patients, so he couldn't understand what Phil was saying half the time, and he'd end up looking to me for explanation. Right now seemed to be no different. I tried to ignore the expression of hurt on Phil's face as I took his hand in mine and repeated what he'd said.

"We're not sure," Dr. Spencer admitted, but his frown said something different. "However, most people we've seen with this- it never goes away." Phil's fingers squeezed mine tight at those words and I looked over to find actual tears on his cheeks. Part of me was already feeling irritated because he'd only been awake for a day and Dr. Spencer was already forcing him into these preconceived realities that might not even be the case for Phil. He wasn't exactly the epitome of 'typical situation'. I stared at him until he looked at me, and then I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before the doctor could give us more bad news. "You'll work with a speech therapist," Dr. Spencer continued, seemingly oblivious to mine and Phil's little moment. "We'll start slow, because your vocal chords are not very strong right now."

"Does that work?" I asked, before Phil could. He really shouldn't be talking at all right now (doctor's orders), but we all know how good he is at listening.

"It won't reverse it, if that's what you're asking. But with enough practice, you could gain most of your speech control back." He looked each of us in the eye and added, "But don't go into it expecting a miracle." He stood up and reached out to pat my shoulder, which I allowed for the sake of getting him out faster, and then he touched a palm to Phil's duvet-covered knee and smiled hopefully.

"What a charming guy," I commented as soon as he was out of the room. I turned to face Phil, hoping to distract him with sarcastic humour or maybe kisses, but he was already crying silently. I didn't dare ask if he was okay, because I knew he wasn't. Instead, I moved my hands to his cheeks to wipe the tears away. He opened his mouth, but I slipped a finger under his chin and made him close it back. "Just rest," I told him, and he nodded once before leaning over to tuck his head into my shoulder.

"W-ha-t's…ha-appen?" Phil asked a few minutes later. His voice was so scratchy, I was afraid he'd break his vocal chords. I sighed internally, but didn't bother reminding him about the importance of silence right now. Phil was a guy who liked to talk, and I knew that was probably ninety percent of the problem- that he could no longer keep up with the voice in his head. I wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer, pressing a kiss to his temple.

"I don't know, baby," I whispered, and it terrified me because I really didn't know what was going to happen now. Still, I smiled when I looked back down at him to find his eyes closed; he'd finally given in to the exhaustion once again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 **(Phil)**

 **December 20, 2014**

"C…a….t."

"Very good, Philip," Emmy said, lowering the flashcard in her hands. Emmy was the speech therapist, assigned to come to my room three times a week and make me read off names on cards and practice maneuvering my vocal chords until I could speak without it being so obvious that I had a language deficit now. I'd found out pretty quickly that it actually did help if I drew out each syllable, making the word three times longer but leaving out most of the embarrassing cracks in between letters. Of course, that was just with single words.

"Try this one," Emmy instructed, holding up a new card. _The Cat in the Hat_. She'd apparently gotten these from the children's ward. I swallowed the lump building in my throat and shot a glance toward the window, where Dan was turned with his back to us, staring out the glass. They'd planned on making him leave during therapy sessions, because apparently he'd be too distracting and hinder my progress (actual words spoken by Dr. Spencer), but he'd pretty much slammed his foot down and told them he'd leave when I asked him to. We both knew that wasn't going to happen, so here he was. "Take it slow," Emmy suggested, noticing my hesitation. "One word at a time." I focused on her dark fringe hiding half her face; it was almost the same colour as mine.

"…C-at iiiin…the…ht." Goddamn, I was all over the place. I'd visualized the stupid sentence perfectly in my head. I had no patience for myself, though. I had too much going on in my life that required the use of my voice, and I didn't have time to sit here and play baby games, but that was apparently all my schedule entailed for the next month at least. And even if I could talk like a normal person again, I still couldn't make it down the hall without someone holding me up, as my body had been in the process of shriveling up when I finally snapped out of it. Everything hurt, and I couldn't walk at all yet. My legs were like jello when I tried to stand. I'd know because I'd already snuck out of bed four times in an attempt to gain some independence back.

"That was good, Phil," Emmy was saying. "Really good. It's a long process, so don't worry so much about not getting it perfect every time." I met her gaze with a half-smiling expression, but I doubted she bought it. Her head turned towards Dan. "Hey, Dan?" He looked over and smiled when he saw us watching him. Emmy smiled sweetly and said, "He did good, yes?" She ran a hand through her hair, creating a quif on top, and looked at him expectantly.

"Of course," was his automatic reply, as he made his way toward me. He didn't hesitate in wrapping me up in his arms, because Emmy was one of the few people who encouraged it. She said it was important to have loved ones around, because of dopamine secretions…or something like that. It also helped that she was apparently a major fan of us. "You're doing great," he murmured after a moment, moving his head so he could press his lips to mine. One hand twisted into my hair to hold me in place, while the other was positioned on the mattress so he wouldn't fall on me.

"I was thinking," Emmy announced suddenly, after we'd finally pulled away from each other. We both looked at her with expressions of confusion and some embarrassment, because she'd essentially just watched us make out. "It's going to be a while before you guys can carry a regular conversation," she continued, "so it might do you both some good to learn BSL."

"Sign language?" Dan questioned, but then he grinned. "I hadn't thought of that. It's a good idea, though." He turned to face me again with shining eyes and a cheeky smile. His sad dimple was fully visible. "That way, you won't go mental with all those weird thoughts in your head."

"Sh-ut," I retorted (weakly, might I add), but he just laughed and leaned in for another kiss.

 **A/N: Wow that was long.**

 **Also, expressive aphasia is a common side effect in stroke patients or any other situation where the brain is cut off from oxygen for an extended period of time. If you'll recall, I mentioned a few chapters ago (and will discuss more later) that Phil had a blood clot pass through his heart. While that clot was there, blood wouldn't have been going to his brain, hence the oxygen deprivation. (don't worry- Dr. Spencer will explain more in the next chapter). If you're interested, you can google "expressive aphasia" because this site doesn't allow external links.**

 **Anyway, that's all for now.**

 **PS: I'm not an expert in this stuff, so "creative license". That is all.**


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: There's angst if you squint, but mostly fluff. Yay!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **-Justin**

 **Chapter Eight: New Year, New You**

 **January 1, 2011**

I opened my eyes to bright light and a very hungover Dan. He hadn't woken up yet, but I knew he'd be cranky when he did. He was currently wrapped around me entirely, arms and legs tangled to the point that you couldn't tell whose was whose. I liked these mornings best, just lying next to him and curled up in the best way possible. It was one of the only times that one of us didn't end up blanket-less and frozen.

There was just enough space between our heads for me to see when his eyelids fluttered, and he blinked a few times before focusing on my face. As I'd suspected, he looked like he going to throw up, but he still gave a tiny smile and shuffled in closer, pressing our chests together. His arm tightened around my waist and I felt his lips press lazily against my cheek. Neither of us spoke- it wasn't necessary in this little universe we inhabited at the moment- but he let out a soft groan as the weight of last night's celebrations finally caught up to him, and then he was suddenly shoving himself away from me to lie flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling.

"Happy new year," I said with a smile, leaning over to return his kiss. He batted me away with one arm and sighed loudly. I moved to get up, saying, "I'll get you some ice." He muttered out something that sounded like a _thanks_ , and I laughed as I made my way across the room.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 **December 23, 2014**

"According to EMS," Dr. Spencer explained, gesturing to a spot on his clipboard, "Mr. Lester was unconscious for an undetermined amount of time. Since we don't know how long his brain went without oxygen, we can't give a very detailed estimate of exactly what kind of damage we're dealing with." He had a head of dirty brown that was at least as thick as his skull, and he ran a hand through it roughly as he spoke. Emmy kept saying he was a great doctor and a wonderful guy, and how he was only ttying to distance himself from the emotions. In my humble opinion, he could've at least pretended to care.

"He couldn't have been out for more than a few minutes before I found him," I said from across the table. There were five of us seated around the thing, and I was fairly certain I'd be kicked out of the room if my patience got any shorter. "And he was breathing fine when I did get to him, so"-

"But we don't know how long he was out between the time he got up and the time you found him on the floor," Emmy cut in, scowling. I knew it was directed at me, and I sighed, leaning back in the chair. Her hand slid over to touch my arm. "We're going to do everything we can to get him through this." Her fingers stayed on my skin until I finally looked over to see why, and she smiled when our eyes met, finally releasing her grip.

"How much worse could it have been?" This from Phil's mum, Katherine. She was seated beside me, one hand on my knee. Everyone kept giving me these warnings, but I was just trying to help. They didn't know what it was like. Maybe if they were the ones who held Phil at night when he couldn't fake it anymore. "If Dan hadn't acted when he did, would he have died?"

"Most likely," said Dr. Spencer, piping up again. He sure was blunt. "The brain can only tolerate so long without oxygen before it becomes unable to support the human body."Katherine let out a little gasp and tightened her grip on my leg. "He's doing very well, considered the circumstances. To be quite honest, I was expecting much worse."

"Like?" I couldn't help butting in just one more time before this meeting was over.

"Paralysis, total loss of language processing," Dr. Spencer answered immediately, looking right at me. "Amnesia, to name a few." He twisted the pen around on the tabletop, but suddenly snatched it up and stuck it in his coat pocket. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. "I have patients to tend to, so if you'll excuse me. I'm sure you'd like to get back to him, anyway."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 **December 25, 2014**

"Emmy thought you might like these," I announced, dropping a load of notepads on the bed at Phil's feet. He was propped up by a mountain of pillows, something Dr. Spencer had said was necessary to _reduce unnecessary muscle strain_. I didn't question it because Phil seemed to enjoy it. "Since this whole aphasia thing only affected the verbal part of your language processing." We'd been working on learning some basic phrases in sign language, but so far it was a flop, as neither of us had the ability to remember how to make the shapes.

"Id-ea," Phil said with a smile, leaning forward to take one of the pads in his hands. He was getting better about not worrying so much if his broken speech made him sound dumb. As he settled back, one of the sleeves of his new jumper slid down, covering a bit of his palm, while the other stayed by his elbow where he'd been pushing it all day. It was incredibly attractive, but I could have been slightly biased. The sweater had soft stuff on the inside, and I'd gotten it two days ago in an attempt to make his confinement to bed as comfortable as possible, and then presented it to him this morning as soon as his eyes opened. We might not have been able to have a normal holiday this year, but I'd be damned if I didn't try.

"Hey, sweetie," Katherine announced as she appeared in the doorway. I smiled at her in greeting and watched as she walked over to the chair right by the bed. She had a small package in her hands, and I felt my own excitement at the prospect of what it might be. Anything that would make him smile would be good.

"Hey," Phil replied, head turning to look at her. She leaned in to kiss his cheek when he was facing her, and then handed over the wrapped box. I went over and sat down beside him as he opened it, wrapping an arm around his waist. He leaned into me a bit as he looked over the thing his mum had gotten him. His lips turned up in a huge smile as he lifted the object. "What's it?"

"Something to go with that nice jumper," she explained, reaching out to rub the fabric covering his arms. The pattern was owls, over gray background, and I was glad other people could appreciate how good it looked on him (even if it was his mum, who was probably more biased than me). "It's a stuffed owl," she continued, smiling widely. "I thought you might want something cute to cuddle with at night." She glanced at me for one second, then blushed and added, "Well, something else."

Just as quick as she'd come in, she was gone, and then it was just the two of us again. I settled down beside him once more, resting my head on his shoulder. "I think your mum still has a crush on me," I mused, running my fingers over the owl plushie he now had cradled to his chest. After a few heartbeats, he drew his knees up slightly, curling into a loose ball and turning on his side. His eyes slide shut almost immediately, head in my lap. I'd always been amazed by his ability to fall asleep literally anywhere, but that power seemed to have increased ten-fold since this incident. Still, he was smiling and not in tears, and that was the best Christmas gift I could have gotten.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 **December 31, 2014**

"I can't believe you did this," I read out loud. I'd just revealed the sea of people who'd be joining us tonight, and Phil had immediately scribbled out a message on his notepad. He kept one with him all the time now, and he was noticeably happier now that he had an outlet for that creative voice in his head. I squatted, balancing my weight on the balls of my feet, and met his eyes. He was sat in a wheelchair, the result of a whole lot of deliberation and debate over the benefits of letting him move around so much. Walking was apparently still out of the question, as he was still doing therapy twice a day. It turned out the oxygen deprivation had done a lot more damage than any of us thought. I was starting to worry that the whole paralysis thing might be more than a possibility, but I just kept telling myself it wasn't that since he was able to move his legs for PT. If he was paralyzed, he wouldn't be able to do that, right?

"Oh, honey, don't be shy," Louise called out from across the room, stepping away from Zoe Sugg. The two of them came right over to us, each one taking a side. "It wasn't all his fault, anyway. We couldn't celebrate without you."

Phil smiled and opened his mouth to reply, but then thought better of it and wrote another message instead. He was still pretty self-conscious about his new speech patterns, and for the time-being, his mum and I seemed to be the only two he willingly talked in front of. "You're welcome, sweetie," Louise replied after glancing at the note. Zoe leaned over to peck his cheek- making him blush- and I couldn't help but smile because it was so beautiful. It was really nice to see him this happy. "We love you so much, Phil," Louise assured him, and then, because of course she'd noticed my reaction, added, "Maybe not so much as him," with a wink and thumb hooked over her shoulder. He chuckled at that, and I decided to continue my current attitude of not giving a shit who saw what we did together anymore by curling a hand over his cheek and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"She's right," I agreed, "no one loves you more than me."

"Hey," someone said loudly. We all turned in the direction of the voice, which turned out to belong to Phil's brother, Martyn. He was pointing at the TV mounted to the wall with a grin. "Countdown's begun."

Everyone hurried to join the small group in the corner, and I put my hands on the handles of Phil's chair to push him over. A few seconds later, I was bending down to whisper in his ear, "Wrap your arms around me."

He stood up shakily, but his legs moved as he worked with them to support his weight. He had his arms tight around my neck, and once he was straight, I wound my own around his waist, holding him against me. His breathing hitched when he slipped an inch, but I tightened my grip on him and helped him stand. I could hear Martyn shouting out the numbers as we counted down from ten, and when the ball reached the bottom, everyone screamed out cheers and turned to each other. Zoe and her brother Joe kissed cheeks, Caspar yanked Phil's mum over for an awkward side-hug. Phil's dad reached out and wrapped Martyn up in a warm hug, and then Caspar pulled them in to create a more awkward group hug. Darcy puckered her lips dramatically and pressed them to Louise's cheek, and Louise giggled at the contact.

While this was all going on around us, after I'd glanced around to see the others, I brought one arm up to wrap around his shoulders, and he tucked himself closer to me, until our lips were only an inch apart. "New Year," Phil said softly, and I barely had time to register the fact that he'd said it without any problems before his lips were crashing down on mine. He pulled away a couple times just to change the angle a bit, and then we were reconnecting again, and in that moment, I was pretty sure I hadn't felt that kind of intensity since the night we'd kissed for the first time ever, up at the top of the Manchester Eye. It all felt like a very long time ago.

"New Year," I echoed when he finally pried his lips away. He smiled sheepishly, cheeks flushing with colour. "New you." I tightened my grip on his waist and brought the arm over his shoulders up so I could cup his cheek, thumb stroking softly under his left eye. He leaned into the contact, eyes closed, and I would've sworn, in that moment, I fell just a little more in love. "I love you," I whispered, the words slipping out on their own. After more than six years with him, it wasn't something I had to spend a lot of time mulling over.

"Lo…ve," He replied. "Love. Yo-u toooo." His eyes popped open and I knew he was about to make himself feel like dirt for not saying it perfectly, so I pulled him back to me in a hug tight enough to render him silent.

 **A/N: I think I'm getting the hang of the whole "aphasia" thing.**


End file.
